ished, and so was I yesternight; but
it is true--true--true--so put the broad sea between us quickly,
Walter--now, and for ever!"

The Cavalier looked as if he understood her not, or thought her senses
wandered: at last he said, "But why need you, with a fortune to command,
and a spirit to enjoy whatever is bright, or beautiful, or glorious--why
should you fetter your free-born will? There is a cunning mystery about
it, Constance" (Constance shuddered, and hid her face, lest its
expression should betray something of her secret); "a mystery I cannot
solve: confide it to me, and solemnly I swear, not only never to
divulge, but to peril, with my good sword, my heart's richest and
warmest blood, in any cause that can free you from this bad man. Nor do
I expect aught of you in return, nor any thing ask, save that you may be
happy, with any, any but this---- I cannot speak his hated name."

Constance was too agitated to reply. Under present circumstances, she
would have given worlds not to have seen Walter; and, having seen him,
she knew not what to say, or how to think or act: the painful struggle
she endured deprived her of the power of utterance.

"It is not for myself I speak, Constantia; though now I need not tell
you that the love of boyhood has never been banished from my bosom. The
remembrance of the hours we spent together, before a knowledge of the
world, before a change in the constitution of our country, shed its
malign influence, not over our hearts, but over our destinies--the
remembrance of those hours has been the blessing, the solitary blessing,
of my exile; it has been the green oasis in the desert of my existence:
amid the turmoil of battle, it has led me on to victory; amid the
dissipation of the royal court, it has preserved me from taint. The
remembrance of Constance, like the night-star that cheers the mariner on
the wide sea, has kept all holy and hopeful feelings around my heart;
telling of home, my early home, and its enjoyments--of Constance, the
little affectionate, but high-souled girl--the----"

"Stop!" interrupted Constance, with an agonised expression--"Stop, I
conjure you! I know what you were going to say; you were about to repeat
that which my mother loved to call me--your wife! She did not mean it in
mockery, though it sounds so now, like a knell from the lower earth. But
one thing, Walter, one request I have to make--you pray sometimes?--the
time has been when we have prayed together!--